A Rogues Proposal (Cynster 4)

Gillies remained blank-faced. "The master was most particular, miss. He said we was to hold the fort here, and not let-not make any rash moves. Anyway, there's no need to follow Bletchley to Bury-chances are, when he wants to hie back to London, he'll come back through here on the coach."

"That's not the point!" Flick declared.

"Isn't it?" Standing beside them, Cross squinted up at Flick. "I thought that was it-that we was to watch him in Newmarket and see who he talked to here."

"Not just here." Flick drew a calming breath. "We need to see who he talks to wherever he goes. He might be going to Bury to meet with his masters."

Cross blinked. "Nah, he'll be-"

Gillies coughed, succumbing to a veritable paroxysm that had both Flick and Cross looking at him in concern. Blinking, he shook his head, waving his hand back and forth in a negative gesture. "It's all right," he said to Flick, but his eyes, bright and sharp, were fixed on Cross.

Cross's expression blanked. "Oh. Ah. Right-well."

Flick frowned at him. "We must organize to pick up the watch on Bletchley when he gets to Bury. The mail coach takes hours, so we have a little time."

"Ah-it's not that simple, miss." Gillies exchanged a glance with Cross. "Both Cross here and Hills have duties on the farm-they can't simply up and leave for Bury."

"Oh." Flick looked at Cross; he nodded.

"Aye-wouldn't do for us to leave the youngsters unsupervised, like.",

Flick grimaced. It was spring, and the stud farm would be a hive of rather serious activity; taking two senior stablemen away at this time was impossible. Especially not from an enterprise as highly regarded as Demon's. Absentmindedly, she settled Jessamy-tail swishing, the mare was growing increasingly restless.

Glancing up, Flick saw Gillies and Cross exchange a look she couldn't interpret; they almost looked pleased. "Well," she stated, "as we can't afford to let Bletchley roam about unwatched, I'll have to go to Bury myself."

Gillies's and Cross's reactions to that were easy to read-their eyes went round and their mouths dropped open.

Gillies recovered first. "But… but… you can't go alone." His eyes looked slightly wild.

Flick frowned. "No, but I don't want to take my maid." She looked at Gillies. "You'll have to come, too."

The lugubrious Cross shook his head. "Nah, you don't want to go to Bury just now." He looked hopefully at Flick.

She looked steadily back. "As Bletchley has taken himself off, I expect you should get back to the stud."

Ponderously, Cross nodded. "Aye, I'd better, at that. I'll tell Hills we don' have no pigeon to watch any more."

Tight-lipped, Gillies nodded.

As Cross lumbered off, Flick turned back to Gillies. A militant light in her eye, she transfixed him with a glance. "We had better make some plans over how to watch Bletchley at Bury St. Edmunds."

Gillies stiffened his spine. "Miss, I really don't think-"

"Gillies." Flick didn't raise her voice, but her tone stopped Gillies in his tracks. "I am going to Bury to watch Bletchley. All you need to decide is whether you'll accompany me or not."

Gillies studied her face, then heaved a sigh. "Perhaps, we'd better have a word with Master Dillon. Seein

g as it's on his account, an' all."

Flick frowned harder; Gillies sucked in a quick breath. "Who knows? Maybe Master Dillon has some idea of what Bletchley's doing at Bury?"

Flick blinked, then raised her brows. "You're right. Dillon might know-or be able to guess." She looked around. It was lunchtime; the Heath was empty. "I'll need to go home for lunch or they'll miss me. Meet me at the start of the track to the cottage at two."

Resigned, Gillies nodded.

Flick returned the gesture curtly, then loosened her reins, tapped her heels to Jessamy's sides, and raced home.

After polishing off a late lunch at White's, Demon retired to the reading room with a cup of coffee and a large news sheet, behind which he could hide. That last was occasioned by his encounter with the Honorable Edward Ralstrup, an old friend who had joined him for lunch.